The lights in the interrogation room flickered. My hands rested on my tapping legs as I stared at the concrete floor. I placed my hand on my heart as my lips twitched. This was my moment, I will narrate this glorious story, the story of the most beautiful murder. I giggled and started, "I am the only one who knows this story in its entirety. A story about the lives of two brothers that completely changed me. This is our story yet somehow not mine. This is the story of three lives. The story of their rise and most importantly their fall. And I will start it off by telling you the most insignificant event that occurred when I was miles apart from from them, the brothers; the very beginning."

At the ripe age of seven, Shyam bunked his first class.

The women were chatting away as the water filled matkas danced with them, the children were busy running around as they chased a rubber tyre with sticks in hand. Mud clouds obscured one's view slightly. The vendors were yelling out prices as their hands swiftly put their goods into their customer's bags. Yet, the magnitude of this noise was realised only when the speakers were switched on, numerous eyes focused on the black speakers as they heard the sound of the wind lashing on the leaves all around them. The last announcement was three years ago when an old woman had offered to take their children to the city, a phenomenal change in a village that had never been to the outside world.

The high pitched sound was next to unbearable as it pierced the eardrums of all yet as the news registered itself on their minds, lips tucked up and eyes twinkled ever so slightly. The finals of the intervillage cricket tournament was to be held in the Maharaja ground mere two days later. Lips moved all at once. The leaves were silenced once again as chatter broke out. The streets were soon filled with orange and blue jerseys, bets were being made and high fives were exchanged. The initial excitement, however, had worn off for the boys.

In Shyam's room, eight little heads huddled together with creased eyebrows and drooped lips, finally one of them voiced their worry, "What are we to do? We have an exam scheduled that very day."

Their feet were restlessly tapping as Ram stood up and said, "I have a plan." The boys watched as Ram's long legs moved in rapid succession and with a swift motion of his hand locked the door shut. He wouldn't be getting out of the house if his plan reached the ears of his parents. Walking back to the centre of the room, he lowered his voice and said, " Thirty three marks and we pass. The exam starts at nine AM, the match at nine thirty. After they are done with the inauguration and what not, the real match should start at round about ten. We'll write our exams for thirty three marks till nine forty five, meet up in the courtyard by nine fifty and leave."

Heads jerked up and eyes shined at the prospect of being able to see the entire match, yet one question remained unanswered.

"Bhaiya Ram, we need tickets to get in, how will we manage that without money ?" said Shyam.

Ram smiled from ear to ear. Being nine, he was the oldest and essentially the leader of their little group and the fact that he had thought of this issue made him grin mindlessly, "There are many trees surrounding the ground."

Tiny hands went up  at once as the boys jumped and embraced one another. The then seven year old looked at his brother's blurred image with admiration as tears of joy filled his eyes. After all, he had dissolved and addressed the elephant in the room within mere minutes. He was his idol, his brother.

The next day, the chalks brushed against the blackboard and pens scribbled on the paper. Some were desperately looking at the windows for a gust of wind, as they heard the creak of the fans above them. Eight faces placed across the school in various classrooms were shining as bright as the summer sun, the heat was no match for the adrenaline that had made its way into their blood.

The sun dipped and rose again. Bags were filled with snacks more than books as the eight of them left their homes and eventually entered their respective exam halls. As the bell rang, their pens raced over the coarse white paper turning page after page till the clock struck nine forty-five.

Papers submitted, bags across their shoulders they were soon together. Their hearts were thumping from fear and excitement, their very first bunk and a beautiful match to anticipate! They knew that they could be caught. But, that was a risk they were willing to take. Once the school gates were behind them and they hit the streets, they counted to three and jumped as high as they could, they were floating in the air as far as they were concerned. They had let go of the fear that had once bound them to their classrooms.

The Maharaja ground had 10 trees surrounding it. That day, eight of them were occupied. Occupied by boys unaware of the fact that their principal's window was open, his eyes set upon them as they left the campus with huge smiles plastered on their faces. That day, a branch cut into Shyam's calf. A scar was left.
*****
"M..mom, I'm sorry" said Shyam. His red eyes were now scanning the floor as his feet rubbed circles against each other.

At that very moment Ram entered the house. As his eyes rapidly moved from his brother to his mother, it was quiet easy for him to grasp the situation. He ran and stood in front of his brother, his arms spread wide and head lowered, he whispered, "It ..it was my plan, all of it. The match, the bunk, tree climbing, all of it. I asked him to j..join me. Ma, I'm sorry."

Shyam stared at his brother's broad back, the water droplets that filled his eyes made the figure in front of him glisten. He saw bravery and respect. Ram's quivering hand that pulled at his shirt was a minor detail, an ignored one.

As the brothers followed their mother heads bent down, they saw two large wide feet come into their view. Slowly the boys raised their heads and were met with the piercing eyes of their principal. Shyam's eyes widened, Ram although initially shocked could then clearly put the pieces together. Everything made sense now. He had been careless. Eight students submitting their papers and leaving so early on wouldn't have gone unnoticed especially in a school that was only about the size of their farm. It did not have long stretches of land were one could enjoy the breeze as it danced with the crops, where the end was never found, but one that was moderately sized yet failed to perform it's function most of the time .

They had been caught, red handed at that. The boys smoothly moved behind their mother. Ram shook his head in dismay. He slowly slipped his hand into that of his brother and bending down said into his ear, "I'm sorry I failed you, my plan failed." Shyam's eyes had dried up as he vigorously shook his head from side to side and beamed at his brother before their heads once again greeted the white tiled floor.

The tile in front of him Ram noticed had exactly seventeen different shapes separated by black curved lines. Now that he was done with the tiles, he had closed his eyes and was just about to go for a sprint in the green pastures as the leaves danced around him all in his mind's eye when the voice of his mother made his eyes open as his  head jerked up all on it's own."RAM, do you understand me?" Although the words were never really heard let alone understood, Ram nodded.

The buzzing continued, a mix of two voices agreeing to one another as they glowered at the two tiny lowered heads. Soon enough, they were asked to go to their room and write 'SORRY' a 100 times.

As the boys settled on the brown wooden chairs papers in hand, the sound of their pencils as they unleashed on the paper filled their room. The door was shut yet their principal's voice seeped through as he said, "I must say, these boys they managed to pull it off, I got their papers checked and all of them have passed, not a single error they say." Their mother's lips had slightly lifted themselves up as she said, "They are quiet a handful but I am glad they passed."

Ram jerked his head up and with a grin said, "Once we get this done, we will head to the ground, check on the others and play chor police, ok?"

"Mmhm" said Shyam as his hand  moved floated over the paper, smoothly without a single pause yet one side of his lip raised mildly. After all, he always beat his brother at that game; besides, the forest was always calling out for him.

Now, thinking back Shyam wonders if that very game was the the beginning of it all. An insignificant day that started this treacherous journey that brought to an end everything he held close to his heart.

Bunk=slang for skipping class
Bhaiya = brother
Chor= thief

**My dear reader, I love writing stories because they have the power to bring out emotions from people I miles and miles away from me. These words are my happiness and to know that it brought out the slightest emotion out of you would mean the world to me. Maybe it just lifted you lip a tiny bit or made lines appear on your forehead, please let me know for that is the sole purpose of these words. Leave a comment, your thoughts, anything. A vote would mean that you enjoyed reading it. It takes seconds and yet means the world to me, the teenager behind the keyboard